Enzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"

What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?

Money grubbing bastards
On my last great travel adventure, I ended up in the heat of Bangkok after what felt like a lifetime in the air. At the airport there was the usual smattering of gabbing taxi drivers, and the booths offering hotel/taxi deals. Now, ordinarily, I have the common sense to just wander around and get the accomodation myself. This time however, the sleep deprivation and heat were getting to me, so i succumbed to paying an exorbitant (well, in local money) fee to get to a hotel and get some kip.

So after the taxi drivers death defying route through the streets, I finally arrived at my destination, really ready to sleep.

I was met at the front desk by an extremely slimey little git, who whilst grinning and rubbing his hands together, informed me:

This is the closest I've ever come in my life to wanting to beat a stranger to death. And I suspect, had I not been dog tired, I'd now be somewhere in a thai jail. But the guy had me over a barrel, I started to argue, but he knew he'd won, and so did I.

I paid my extra cash, trundled off to my room, and slept like the dead.

But that slimy little cnut's face will live on in my memory as the absolute epitome of greed.
(ShiftyBastardwon the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Thu 17 Jan 2008, 17:32,
closed)